


An Empty Cup (Pour Me Some More)

by DoreyG



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bickering, Clothed Sex, Drunk Sex, First Time, M/M, Mild Hand Kink, Mild Praise Kink, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Power Dynamics, Pre-Canon, Sex, Treat, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: "I'd like you not to call me skinny," he grumbles, but still can't stop himself from arching further into Poe's warmth. It's a problem, is what it is. He gets drunk, and suddenly he's willing to put up with any amount of disrespect in exchange for getting laid."Skinny it is, then," Poe says, with another ravishing grin, and finally leans in to kiss him again.





	An Empty Cup (Pour Me Some More)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



> The Dubcon tag comes mainly from the fact that Hux is very drunk here. He enthusiastically consents to everything going on in the fic, but would probably not if he was anywhere close to sober.
> 
> Days4daisy I loved your letter the moment I saw it, and just had to treat you! I hope you have an excellent chocolatebox, and hopefully get a few more treats than this! :D

"Let's not talk about politics," Poe - he _thinks_ the guy's name is Poe, after his third Antakarian Fire Dancer things started to get a bit hazy around the edges - says, pushing him back against the wall.

"But I _like_ talking about politics," he whines, without too much force. He's a big believer in commanding authority, you don't get very far in the First Order without it after all, but he finds himself surprisingly willing to compromise when both drunk and faced with one of the most gorgeous people he's ever met.

"I bet you do," Poe says, and flashes him a smile that lowers his defences even further, "but I also bet I can distract you. Would you like that, skinny?"

"I'd like you not to call me skinny," he grumbles, but still can't stop himself from arching further into Poe's warmth. It's a problem, is what it is. He gets drunk, and suddenly he's willing to put up with any amount of disrespect in exchange for getting laid.

"Skinny it is, then," Poe says, with another ravishing grin, and finally leans in to kiss him again.

He doesn't generally like kissing so much, in his head he groups it with hand holding and flowers and sniffy complaints about how he spends far too much time polishing his uniform, but he accepts it nonetheless. Poe is so confident, so authoritative, that he finds his usual protests far easier to ignore than usual. Besides, he's actually good at it - teasing and enthusiastically sloppy by turns, forceful to the point where he finds himself submitting automatically.

He loves it when it gets to this stage, in a way that always kind of embarrasses him when he sobers up and realizes just how abandoned he was. He finds himself tilting into the kiss automatically, sliding his hands into the front of Poe's stupid jacket, even spreading his legs like he's absolutely gagging for it. It's so much easier, when he's gotten rid of all those pesky inhibitions. So much easier, when he can't even remember what the word 'no' means.

Poe is the one to break the kiss eventually, no surprise. The man stares at him in delight for a long few seconds, even ghosts a hand up his side to trace over his doubtlessly swollen lips, "good boy."

He considers a second, mind sparkly and sluggish in that way that always seems so stupid when he's sober, and then nips at that finger. Not hard enough to break skin, or even to cause any harm at all, but just hard enough that Poe will be able to feel it.

" _Good_ boy," Poe says, pupils going blown with delight, and moves his hand deliberately up the side of his face - only stops when those calloused fingers are buried in his hair, deliberate pricks of almost-pain tugging right against his scalp, "though that's not quite what I have in mind for tonight, alright?"

It's barely a question, more a statement of fact than anything else, but he still eagerly replies, "I'm fine with whatever you want."

"Mm, wonder if you're this pliant when you haven't got an entire bar’s worth of alcohol inside you." Poe chuckles, a low sound that hits him right in the cock. Uses his grip on his hair to tilt his head right back, study his face with an attention that feels intrusive in the best possible way, "still gonna take you at your word, though."

The man leans in for another kiss, quick and filthy, then releases his grip on his hair. Before he has time to protest, as he would quite stridently with his tongue loosened, Poe is already dropping to his knees - hand trailing down his neck, over his collarbone, past the buttons of his jacket, right down until...

"Ah!" He chokes, and tilts his hips forward as Poe's hand finds the closing of his trousers. His cock, already fairly interested in proceedings, immediately leaps to enthusiastic attention.

"I wonder," Poe says casually, fingering him through the fabric in a way that makes him roll his hips like the most shameless of men, "if you're as skinny down here as you are elsewhere."

"I told you-" he starts to snap, and then reconsiders his tone. Tilts his head obediently down to look Poe in the eye, and tries to assume his most beseeching expression, "I'd be honoured if you'd find out, preferably as soon as possible."

His most beseeching expression has formerly, mainly by that upstart brat Ren, been compared to the look in a rabid Bantha's eyes - but the alcohol gilds everything with a kind of glorious certainty, and so it still seems to work on Poe. The man gives another husky laugh, and then finally flicks open the front of his trousers. The fact that he does it one-handed, the other hand coming to rest between his own legs, only adds to the allure.

When his cock springs free Poe examines it for a second, as if to confirm the dimensions with his own eyes, before leaning in.

He moves teasingly at first, so slowly that he barely holds himself back from complaining. He doesn't even take his cock in his mouth - only licks slowly around the head, nuzzles teasingly down the length, scrapes his teeth briefly at the base as if he knows the threat of pain is enough to get him going even when he's fully in control of his senses.

At his needy whimper, he may be trying to be polite but a man has _needs_ , the man finally speeds up a little. Moves back up to the head of his cock, and slowly takes him in mouth. The initial heat of him is incredible, the vibration of his soft moan almost enough to have his eyes rolling back in his head.

Poe mouths around the tip for a moment, paying special attention to where he's already leaking precome, before slowly taking him in deeper. The first bob of his head is already enough to get him bracing back against the wall, probably getting emperor knows what under his fingernails, and it only gets better from there. Poe’s mouth is hot, and wet, and mind-blowing in a way that he just knows he's going to grow to hate later. He's soon moaning so loudly that he's pretty sure the patrons back at the bar are going to hear him.

It's amazing, how little he cares about that. He can't really feel shame at the moment, can't even process how he would absolutely hate this if he was just a tiny bit more sober. The volume of his moans causes Poe to groan in return and speed up, after all, and that alone makes them absolutely worth it. Poe uses more suction, loses more finesse. The hand that isn't working frantically between his legs grips harshly at his hip for a moment, before working around to grab his ass.

He jolts joyously at the touch of it, jolts again - even more joyous - when Poe's fingers shift and find his crack even through his trousers and underwear. They trace it, up and down and up and down until he's mad with it, as Poe takes him steadily deeper. Losing all control now, gasping frantically around him and getting saliva pretty much everywhere as his hand speeds up faster and faster. Like the man is just as aroused as him, like the man is taking just as much pleasure in this, like the man is abandoning himself to this hasty drunken fuck just as much as he is.

…When he wakes up in the morning he is absolutely going to _loathe_ every single memory he has of this.

He comes with that thought foremost in his mind, and weirdly enough it only makes the whole thing all the more explosive for him. He can't mind too much, he's never had much time for psychology drunk or sober, and he's glad that he doesn't have to in this state. He can only slump back against the wall, pant his way through the glorious aftermath and close his eyes against the vertigo.

A long moment passes. The both of them remaining silent other than their panting. Still so far away from contemplative that he already knows that he won't even be able to wonder what the hell he was thinking, when he gets back to some form of sobriety.

"...Guess you are skinny all over," Poe says eventually, breaking their silence with a filthy chuckle that makes him shift uncomfortably with the echoes of sensation, "hey, skinny, d'you think you'll be up for round two anytime soon?"

The echo of sensation is harder this time, borderline painful. His cock practically shrivels, he takes in a deep and uncomfortable breath. He knows, with a clarity beyond anything that he's experienced tonight, that he's already going to ache horribly tomorrow. That he's going to wake up with a horrific headache and a crick in his neck, and want to beat his head against a wall. That a round two, probably involving something even more athletic than a standing blowjob, is only going to make his pain and humiliation and raw fury all the worse.

"Gimme five minutes," he slurs, and opens his eyes just in time to see Poe's triumphant smirk, "then I'll be good to go."


End file.
